Not too long ago I lived in a house, with way more floor space than any human needs. But the defining feature was that every one of the closets was packed and stacked floor to ceiling with stuff. I am sure that nearly everyone goes through an acquisitive phase (‘look, shiny thing!’, ‘that will be a great thing to help with…’, ‘what a beautiful object that will make me look sophisticated’, ‘I will get that just in case…’). Towards the end of that phase I began to feel as if I was simply a curator of possessions.
Now that I have moved into the un-possessioned phase my philosophy is “I found great joy and got good use out of this [Book, Tool, Coat] and now I can pass it along to someone who will get a whole new benefit from it”. In economics terms this is known as ‘pushing out the utility curve’.
You may have a family member or friend who has space and inclination to store all your drek. Resist the temptation to pile everything you own into this ‘free space’. It is simply postponing a thoughtful appraisal of your desires and needs, and I guarantee that you will be on the other side of the world when your friend texts you that they sold their house and you have to move your stuff out by next week. I believe that even if you have a free place to park all your gear it simply does not make sense to mothball it. If, like me, you love full time travel, it is difficult to picture a place in time or space where I will have need of that waffle maker, jigsaw puzzle, sledge hammer, Cheryl Tiegs poster (kidding – never getting rid of that poster).
It is difficult to go directly from ‘piles of stuff’ to ‘virtually no stuff’ (unless a catastrophic house fire is involved), so I approached this gradually. After 10 years (!) I divested myself of fully 99% of the mass (98% by value) of all my objects, and the remainder fits very easily on the footprint of a dining table. To be honest it really annoys me that I still have this much, and it is a shameful secret that I pay to store this burden. After all, the monthly expense adds up relentlessly, and I estimate that in two more years will have eclipsed the value of the stored objects. In other words it will have been cheaper to give everything away and buy all new stuff if I settle down.
Still, there are some possessions that need time before we are ready to set them free. (For me there were toy soldiers, much loved clothing, china and silver, a few pieces of sentimental attachment furniture that I was not ready to be rid of until they aged a couple of years). I visit my stuff about once a year, and each time I have come away with a box of things that I can now liberate and find a new home for, shaking my head that I thought that I should keep them in the first place. Just this month I found a qualified and gleeful person to take my remaining 5kg of ice climbing gear. As a result of the further downsizing I was also able to shift to a smaller space and save some (waste less) money. Further update: I am down to a 5’x5’ space, and feel even better.
Some simple strategies to downsizing:
Sell your house, sell your car. Move in to an apartment or condominium that is WAY too small. Then plan on moving to a different apartment each year. (FYI – getting a divorce helps much of your stuff to disappear). Then divide the remainder into the following categories:
- Core identity objects. Birth certificate, first grade artwork, beloved fountain pen. This boiled down to one cardboard box for me. For the love of god dumpster the record collection. I had been dragging around collections of things like toy soldiers for decades. I finally found the courage to eBay them off. It made me so happy to receive notes about how much someone’s kid enjoyed their new playthings.
- Family history stuff. Grandfather’s war service memorabilia, Father’s taxi driver medallion, Mother’s annotated recipe book. I picked one object for each relative and buffed or framed it to perfection. Then I surveyed siblings and if there were no takers I Thriftshopped the rest.
- Quirky arty stuff. In a campaign of Moriartyesque devilish brilliance, over a couple of years I carried ‘hostess gifts’ to friends’ houses of stuff that I enjoyed. They are dutybound to keep it and I can go visit it.
- Signaling items. All the stuff that we displayed to present an image to the world. This was hard for me because, for example, my metres of books were my way of showing visitors how eclectic and educated I am. No one cares. I keep one box of ‘essence of me’ items, gave a few away to annoyed people, and Thrifted the rest.
- Clothes. Every New Year I bought cheap plastic hangars of a new colour. After wearing a piece of clothing I hung it on one of these new hangars, to indicate that that was an active garment. After only two years it was obvious that I never wore most of the clothes that I owned. Give them away or Thrift them.
- Furniture. This depreciates in value so quickly that anyone who agrees to take your couch is actually doing you a favour. My recurring strategy was to unload heavy things on the movers, who might know people who can use it. Legacy items (“this étagère from my Aunt is SO valuable”) are not valuable. If there is any doubt take some photos to show a dealer. I tried consigning a few pieces and it was way more hassle than benefit.
- Electronics. The pace of tech innovation and freefall of prices renders anything like computers, monitors, ‘phones and TVs obsolete in very few years. Gift them, or try to sell them for $20 on eBay.
- Tools and gadgets. In line with the “greater fool theory” there will always be someone you know who has just bought a house. Deliver all this gak to them – you will be a hero, much lighter, and know where you can borrow a drill if you ever need one.
- Sports equipment. For conventional sports items I just left them leaning against the fence at an urban park. Someone is surely using them now (either to play, or mug a tourist).
As I got down to the dregs I committed that each time I left my apartment I would have to take with me and rehome at least 1kg of stuff- dropping bedsheets next to a sleeping homeless guy, offering bike locks to strangers, leaving gewgaws in the laundromat, placing a vase (with flowers) at a Ghost bike, leaning a velvet “dog poker” picture against the Art Museum door. It became a creative and joyful hobby of divestment.
